Washing Machines
by My Leather Couch
Summary: for lack of a better title. Sick Black Cherry series. Terra is doing her laundry after a date with Beast Boy, and Blackfire joins her... BlackTerra femslash


"Hey, sleepy head."

Have you ever fallen asleep against a washing machine? I heard that the noise it makes has a lulling effect, that somehow it reminds us of being in the womb; the sound hypnotizes you into falling asleep because it emulates what an unborn infant hears inside its mother.

That seems like a good enough explanation to me. It doesn't stop me from being any more embarrassed, though.

So quick that I give myself whiplash, I jerk my head up, pulling my cheek away from the cool metal. I feel my back crick as I sit up straight, but I'm too startled to know that it hurts. I look up and into the face of the person who woke me.

Bright violet eyes glare down at me, shiny and hard; the soft, scarlet-pink mouth below them, though, is drawn up into a tiny, amused curve.

My stomach does a flip. Oh crap.

_Blackfire_.

She narrows her eyes at me playfully. "Long night, Terra?"

I must have blushed, because the minuscule quirk of her lips bloomed out into a fully-formed, voluptuous-sweet smile. It makes my insides turn to butter. It also makes me think of Raven; never in a thousand years would she smile like that.

Blackfire makes a suggestive/thinking sound in her throat, and puts a hand on her hip— which is when I realize that she is wearing a bathrobe. But not just any bathrobe: it's one she borrowed from Raven. I can tell because no one else wears blue-black silk when going to prepare a shower or do their laundry.

I've always thought this particular piece of clothing was an odd pick for Raven. It was . . . well, not as _concealing _as her other stuff. I mean, her leotards showed off her legs, but she usually kept everything shielded behind a cloak. In this, though, the fabric was so thin that it was easy to let your mind slip into the warm idea that she was probably not wearing anything under it. . . .

Before I realize it, I give Blackfire a once over and my blush deepens by several noticeable hues. Because, now that I think about it, _she's _probably not wearing anything underneath _either_.

Trying to make a smooth recovery, I tear my eyes away and clear my throat. "Ugh. Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"_Really?"_ Her voice is round, voluptuous; it makes me think of peaches. "Is Beast Boy _that _tiresome? I didn't think the little squirt had it in him."

I look down at my lap, my skinny legs protruding like sticks from out of a short, black skirt I had picked out while shopping with Star yesterday. Two days ago, Beast Boy had asked me out to dinner; and I, not really knowing how to say no, accepted. I picked out this skirt for the occasion, because apparently you're supposed to wear provocative and revealing stuff on dates.

Maybe the power of the short skirt didn't work on me, or maybe Beast Boy wasn't as horny as I thought, because we came back from our date with my clothes never having been ruffled, and we went our separate ways once we reached the common room.

While I am lost in my thoughts, Blackfire keenly takes the moment to settle herself on the bench beside me. I am very aware how close we are now and I crank my neck down to let my chin all but rest on my chest; I could easily peer at her from behind the curtain of blonde hair I've created, but I don't dare.

Beside me, Blackfire lets out a luxurious sigh. "Well, I went out with Raven; a little Girls'Night rendezvous, you know?" In a slightly superior tone, she then adds, "I actually convinced her to go to a rock concert with me."

Lifting my head from my chest, I look up to stare at her, both shocked and impressed. "How did you get her to do _that?"_ I ask, hearing the awe in my own voice. But can I help it? Raven _never _goes to rock concerts. I know she listens to some alternative and grunge music, but she always makes a point of letting us know how much she wants to keep her eardrums in tact, thank you very much. That Blackfire got her to go to one was nearly unbelievable.

Obviously pleased with the amount of amazement in my voice, Blackfire smiles a proud, self-satisfied smile. "A little coaxing goes a long, _long _way," she replies. Tilting her head back, she closes her eyes and smiles at the memory that is apparently playing across the backs of her lids.

"That girl . . ." she lets out a long breath, not quite sighing. "She's probably a wonderful dancer— although, in a mosh pit, there's not much else to do but jump around and try not to get trampled. . . ."

"So she had fun?" I probe, curiosity getting the better of my reserve.

"Mmm," Blackfire murmurs an affirmative. _"Oodles."_

A silence ensues, broken only by the sound of the washing machine's steady churning. I'm having trouble getting past the thought of Raven letting loose in a mosh pit . . . although, I guess I could _kind _of see it . . . _Raven, probably wearing cargo pants and a tank top, closing her eyes, immersing herself in the feel of bodies around her and the ear-splitting music, and she probably held her hands above her head, probably closed her eyes and listened as everyone's hearts beat as one . . . ._

_And Blackfire right beside her, ebony hair illuminating with each flash of the strobe lights, probably dancing with Raven, their limbs intertwining, their breaths mingling, their sweating bodies close and moving to the same rhythm— _

"She's very pretty, our dark bird."

I nearly jump out of my skin, but Blackfire is staring at the ceiling, too entranced with her own thoughts to notice. Her peach-lips are parted, slick and soft. I gaze at them as she speaks again.

"Although, 'pretty' is too generic," she muses, soft violet eyes tracing nonexistent patterns in the ceiling. "My _dear_ baby sister is _pretty _. . . but she's also an _agritbyan," _she said in Tameranian. "You know: a dunce, I believe is the English word. Raven is much more complex than that; she is— "

"Gorgeous."

Blackfire's head turns, and her eyes bore into mine. Oh shit. Did I just blurt that out? My own eyes are widened to the point of being saucers, and my mouth is half-open, as though gaping at myself— in short, I look like an idiot. I feel like an idiot. Blackfire's eyes are penetrative, as though she's reaching in with an invisible hand and scooping out the contents of my mind, reading my thoughts, though her own expression is cool and closed off and I shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have—

Blackfire smiles, and this time it's both syrupy and sly.

"I was going more for '_stunning_'," she drips, honey-coy laughter evident in her tone, "but I guess 'gorgeous' fits her just as well." Blackfire crosses her legs, and a bit of Raven's silk robe slipping up her thigh, revealing more sun-orange skin. "In any case, she is a rare flower: quite unlike anyone else."

"She's never been out on a date," I hear myself say. "At least, not while she's been with the Titans."

"That seems like such a tragic waste," Blackfire comments. "All that beauty and no one to openly worship it."

I want to say something in agreement, but I don't. For one, I can't say anything eloquently enough for it to be an actual compliment to Raven; two, I'm being too obvious already. Somewhere, I read that people in love are far more overt than they realize, and that seems to be especially true when I talk about Raven; that I would be talking about Raven to another female whom I also find very attractive might just doom me yet.

Because, really, I'm not so smitten with Raven that I can't see Blackfire. _She _is gorgeous too, but in a different way. Her eyes are purple, just like Raven's, but they're brighter, more teasing and vibrant. Her hair is like an inky waterfall, long and lush and silky; her skin fits perfectly over her body, especially over her legs. I'm envious of her in a way. Not just because she'as beautiful, but because she's Blackfire: she could have her way with anyone.

Even the untouchable Raven.

Soft breath tickles my ear.

I turn my head, only to be caught in a hot kiss.

Without thinking, I kiss her back.

Almost as soon as my mouth starts working against hers, Blackfire stops, pulls away. Her eyes delve deep into mine, violet irises dancing with iridescent, electric sparks.

Slowly, a cruel smile spreads across her lips.

"I see why Beast Boy didn't get very far," she says.

I wince.

Gathering herself, she gets up from the bench and walks over to the exit. In the doorway, she stops; she turns back and smiles at me.

Something in me twitches.

And then I'm alone again, sitting in silence, broken by the sound of the washing machine.

* * *

**A/N: Okay. Not really what I had in mind to begin with, but I did manage to get some Blackfire/Terra action in there. It's kinda weird how they're both talking about this one girl they both like and then they end up kissing each other. (And in case you haven't noticed, I like making Blackfire very cruel— EVIL CHICKS **_**RULE!!)**_


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